Confrontations of candor
Bittersweet release
Relentless ghosts whisper
“The devil is in the details”

Chemical haze; colored sands of stark contrast
I can’t seem to sift through
Tight grips
White knuckled grasping
It runs through my fingertips regardless

A heart stitched together with scar tissue
Thick, white lines etched carefully on thighs
If my heart grows
Will I find stretch marks there, too?

Silky smooth tracing
With bony fingertips
The birth of fresh skin cells
Each year more and more
Skin dissolves into dust from before
It runs through my fingertips regardless

The girl with the protruding rib cage
With fire just behind
Blue-green, ever-shifting eyes
She branded passion into her arms
With a lit cigarette

Eyes that only saw black or white
Torment suffered red
Pain inflicted blue
Fused into monochrome shades of slate

Digging up her grave
Clawing at the dirt and sand
Until blood runs down soft hands
Struggling to separate the two
Dry, dry sand
It slips through my fingertips regardless